


in a haze of glory (i stoked the fire)

by scarletite



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Cheating, F/F, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 13:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletite/pseuds/scarletite
Summary: Laura's roommate, Ell, hates her. And this wouldn't annoy her nearly as much if she had a legitimate reason to. Only she doesn't.That is, until she does.[the 'we drunkenly hooked up but you’re dating my roommate who already hates me college au' nobody asked for]





	in a haze of glory (i stoked the fire)

Out of all the roommates she's had—and Laura went to boarding school for five years, so she's had a few—she's sure that Elleanor "It's Ell" Sheridan is the worst. 

It's not that she's messy (she's surprisingly clean, even if she disparages the chore-wheel), or that she's loud (she's quiet overall, because Laura talks "enough for both of us"), or even that she's inconsiderate (she doesn't keep Laura up or lock her out at weird hours, like Betty did). 

No, what makes Ell the worst roommate is this: she absolutely, unfoundedly, hates Laura.

It begins on the first day they meet, when Ell takes one look at her outstretched hand and her offer to "get coffee and get to know each other," and promptly turns and walks away.

That, unsurprisingly, sets the tone for their 'friendship.'

 

* * *

 

"Carmilla's coming over."

Laura glances over her shoulder as Ell steps into the room, meets the flat stare. "Carmilla's coming over," she parrots, sighing. "Great. Sure."

Ell spares her barely a glance, slinging her bag on a hook by the door and dumping her keys on the bookshelf.

Laura goes back to typing her essay, shaking her head. If she sighs a little more than usual and types a little more aggressively, well, that's neither here nor there. 

It's not that she hates Carmilla. She doesn't. She's annoying, and nothing short of infuriating in large doses, but Laura's capacity for tolerance is rather high. (Case in point, she's lived with Ell for three months without snapping.) No, her problem is that Carmilla and Ell, when together, are the most obnoxious people she's ever met.

"Hey, sweetheart." Laura catches sight of the door opening in her monitor's reflection, and Carmilla's insufferable smirk. She catches Ell by the middle, tugs her close. “What’s up?”

Ell tucks herself into Carmilla's arms, smiling; the expression is warmer, kinder, than anything she's ever given Laura. "Hey, you."

Laura scowls.

Carmilla's eyes slide to the side, catch Laura's gaze in the reflection. "Afternoon, shortstack."

"Carmilla. You're here." There's absolutely zero enthusiasm in those words, pointed as they are. “Again."

For the fifth time in as many days, Laura internally huffs. Which is unnecessary, because Carmilla has a single room and doesn’t need to be anywhere in Laura’s vicinity. Her or Ell. She’d be quite happy if they’d disappear there, like they usually do, rather than spending time here.

There's nothing but amusement on Carmilla's face. "I'm here," she retorts, flippant. "Again."

Ell's gaze slices over Carmilla's shoulder, brown eyes hard on the back of Laura's head. She can feel the gaze, burning her skin like a physical thing. "Laura has an essay to work on."

The words are directed more to Laura than to Carmilla. Sweet, but layered with a subtle reminder, like the vocal-equivalent of narrowing her eyes.

"Right." Laura's hands squeeze tightly shut. She holds her breath, releases. "Beowulf."

"Well, don't let us interrupt," Carmilla says, backing Ell slowly towards her bed. Her gaze finally shifts from Laura's back, turning to Ell. "Now, where were we."

Laura hisses something low, and entirely petty, under her breath.

Her typing is less 'typing' and more 'keysmashing'. She's entirely sure that somewhere on campus, the ghosts who man the Tech Support department are shrieking in their offices. But she doesn't care.

All she cares about is this essay—

Ell laughs lowly, coiled with Carmilla on her mattress, whispering something into her girlfriend's ear. Her gaze is sharp on Laura's back again.

Her skin prickles, hyper-aware.

Carmilla shakes her head, murmurs something back. 

Ell shifts closer to her, giggling.

God, it's like high school all over again—Laura was never popular, rather the opposite, so she's well accustomed to the feeling of somebody talking about her. A nervous twinge, the ghost of bullies past, settles in her chest. She can practically feel the books being knocked out of her arms already.

She doesn't know what she did to deserve Ell. Gorgeous, rich, hates-her-guts-for-no-reason Ell. It's not like she'd said more than a sentence to her before Ell dismissed her. Does she smell? Is it her hair? What?

With difficulty, she bites back something caustic, and probably bound to get her in trouble with Perry the Floor Don (who's a big proponent of 'communication is the key to co-existence,' despite having a single). Laura takes a deep, sighing breath. Those are usually frequent around Ell.

Sure enough, Ell mumbles something again that sends the two girls into another giggle fit.

No, nope. Not today. This essay is worth 25% of her grade. She can't deal with this.

"I'm going to the library," Laura announces, shooting to her feet. "I'll be back later."

Ell barely glances at her. "Whatever."

Carmilla's eyes follow her, watch her pack her bag, throw on a jacket and stomp towards the door. "Later, creampuff. Don't let the books bite."

She's not sure if it's genuine or not—in Silas it's very literal, but it's also frequently-sarcastic-and-occasionally-awful Carmilla, so.

Laura grumbles a response, slams the door shut when she leaves.

She hears the laughter erupt, even from down the hall.

 

* * *

 

In the way most people do, when Laura’s sick of dealing with Ell and her veiled passive-aggression, she finds someone to complain to.

“I just don’t get it!” Laura huffs. “I’m nice, I tidy up after myself, I’m not loud, I’m a good roommate! Why does she hate me? Is it me? Give to me straight. Do I smell? Is it my face? Do I have an unlikable face?”

Danny shakes her head, smiles. “Your face is fine, better than fine. And you smell great. Don’t let her get in your head. Ell is just a—”

“Bitch?” LaFontaine offers, popping a bite of cherry pie into their mouth.

“LaFontaine!” Perry pipes up, reprimanding. “I’m sure Ell has her reasons, she’s just…not a very open person, I’m sure she likes you just fine, Laura.”

“She literally hates me.” Laura’s spent probably a third of her semester so far complaining about her roommate, but none of her friends can really relate; they all have singles, or they’re Danny, who lives in a weirdly-sisterly sorority house. “I mean, whenever she looks at me, she glares. I can practically  _feel_ the knives coming out of her eyes.”

“It could just be Bitchy Resting Face, I guess.” LaFontaine shrugs.

Perry slaps their arm again. “You should just talk to her, Laura, communication is—”

“Key to peaceful co-existence, I know. But I just wish there was a reason, y’know? Like, I could deal with her hating me if I’d actually done something to earn it. But I didn’t do anything! I feel ripped off.”

Danny pats her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I agree with LaF. She’s insane. I think the only person she really gets along with is Karnstein, for whatever reason.”

“The match made in heaven,” Laura rolls her eyes. “I’ve never met two more annoying people in my life. And, lest I remind you all, I lived with Betty in her party phase.”

“I have a philosophy class with Carmilla,” Perry mentions. “She’s a little…difficult to get along with, but she’s extremely smart and dedicated. If you got to know her properly, I'm sure she'd be, well, decent.”

Laura takes a vengeful bite of her pumpkin pie. “You’re not making me feel any better, Perry. You’re my friend, you’re supposed to take my side in any and all vendettas or grudges—baseless or otherwise. Friend code.”

Perry just pats the top of her hand. “I think you just need to talk to both of them, Laura. You’ll never resolve the issues between you otherwise.”

“Of course not.” Laura offers her a tired smile. “My plan is to say nothing, deal with them both until I can move rooms next semester, and then spend the rest of my life avoiding eye contact with them both in the halls. If I survive long enough to make it to next semester—from the looks she keeps giving me, Ell may just murder me before then.”

“Well, that’s rather adult of you,” Perry says, deliberately discarding the mention of murder plans.

LaFontaine sits up, eyes shining. “Well, if we’re talking ‘adult’ activities here, I heard there’s an Alchemy Club party going down tonight. Perfect opportunity to drown your sorrows, Hollis. You guys down?”

“The Summers and Zetas are co-running security on it, after that whole zombie-outbreak in campus security last week,” Danny mentions, grimacing at the idea of collaborating with the Zetas. She turns to Laura. “You should come. It might be good, get out of the room for a bit, have some fun, let loose. You can crash in my room after if you want, ditch the Monster in Residence for the night.”

After a brief moment of hesitation—Laura's not a huge fan of drinking, all of her father's warnings about  _peer-pressure, binge drinking and college culture, Laura_ , ringing in her ears—she nods. "Yeah, okay. I'm in."

"Yes!" LaFontaine grins. "Come by my room before hand, I'll make drinks."

"I thought biochemistry was where your heart lies, LaF," Laura pipes up, "not mixology."

"Pregaming is an art form, Hollis. And it's not biochem, but if you serve it in test tubes and beakers, it feels the same—especially if you make enough of them."

 

* * *

 

"Wow," Laura breathes, "the Alchemy Club don't kid around."

Red-faced and bright-eyed at her side, LaFontaine perks up at the sight of the purple fires burning on torches all over the place. "Now this is my sort of party."

“I’m not sure this is entirely safe,” Perry mentions, worry lining her face.

“That’s what makes it fun, Perr!”

There’s about a hundred people, maybe more, spilling out from the Alchemy Club’s building—quite literally the ‘Alchemy _Club_.’ Laura isn’t sure whether the fact that their school apparently has an entire, three-storey building dedicated to Alchemy reflects Silas’ investment in their club activities, or something more untoward.

Frankly, though her journalistic brain is intrigued, it’s overwritten by the part of her that lose Never Have I Ever and drank probably half of LaF’s drinks. That part, her drunken lizard brain, doesn’t really care.

“Hey, Danny!” Laura pushes through the crowd of students playing Beer Pong, towards the entrance. “Over here!”

The benefit to standing almost a full head higher than most of the people around her is that Danny manoeuvres easily through the crowd. Abandoning her station at the front door to Mel, the mean-looking girl from the Summer Society that Laura’s somewhat accustomed with, Danny makes her way over.

“How did the pre-drinks go?” Danny asks.

Laura beams up at her. “I won.”

“Yeah, she won the right to drink every round,” LaFontaine snorts, nudging her ribs and wiggling their eyebrows. “We _have_ to talk about that at some point, Hollis. You’re in university, not elementary school—time to live a little, make some memories, preferably embarrassing ones I can bring up at your future wedding.”

A flush colors Laura’s cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not—”

“Save us the ‘I’m a sweet, innocent little girl’ act, Papa Hollis isn’t here.” LaFontaine grins at Laura, then Danny. “We’re on a mission tonight. Step one: get her drunk enough to forget all about Roommate from Hell. Step two: get her some phone numbers. Wish us luck.”

Danny blinks at them, a flash of something coloring her eyes—her and Laura had broken off their _something_ back in her first year, mutually realizing they’re better as friends, but she’s always been kind of weird around Laura’s dating life.

“Well, have fun, guys. Try not to get into trouble. Oh! And stay away from the third floor. There’s some issues with a sentient lava lamp?”

It probably reflects how accustomed they are to the oddities of Silas that none of them even blink at that. Not even Perry, though she does busy herself with stacking up abandoned, empty cups—coping mechanisms are strange things.

“Alright, bye, Danny!” Laura waves, grabbing Perry and LaF and pushing up the stairs. “I’ll see you later!”

Danny waves back. “Text me if you need a place to stay tonight, Hollis!”

Laura makes a ‘will do’ motion and disappears inside.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later finds Laura on the dance floor, bouncing alongside dozens of other students, none of her friends in sight. There’s a cup of the Zeta’s patented Jungle Juice in her hand, sloshing violently. She doesn’t even notice. She’s too caught up in the moment, dancing along to a song she recognizes from Spotify’s Top 50, but she suddenly _loves_.

The lights are dim, pulsating, and it’s electric. Everything in her is alive, wired, more than she’s been in months—three, she thinks idly, shouting along to the music. She dances with everyone, girls and guys alike; moving out of reach of the handsy or sloppy, revolving around bright-eyed girls and guys with deep laughs.

By the time she peels herself away from the dance floor, she’s breathless, sweaty and her head is swimming.

Her cup is half-empty. Frowning, she stumbles off towards the bathroom. The idea of the bathtub full of alcohol is much less gross now than it was three hours ago.

She doesn’t make it very far.

Before she knows it, Laura’s foot catches on some invisible obstacle, and she stumbles into someone, face-first into their chest.

Hands catch her by her biceps, propping her up. “Whoa, there, sweetheart. Buy me dinner first.”

Laura pulls her face slowly out of soft, warm skin— _boobs_ , she realizes dumbly, looking up, _oh shit, Carmilla’s boobs._ “Oh god, no.”

“Ouch.” Carmilla gazes at her, eyebrow raising. “My boobs not to your liking, hotstuff?”

“They’re…good.” It takes Laura a moment to unstick her tongue in her mouth. With great difficulty, she peels her eyes away from Carmilla’s chest—and wow, her top is extremely low cut. Her cheeks are burning. “I mean, great? I mean—that’s—I’m not—I don’t think about your boobs. Breasts. Your…chest area.”

The smirk that comes over Carmilla’s face is nothing short of wicked. “Oh, really? Because you just had your face mashed into them.”

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about,” Laura shakes Carmilla’s grip off her arms, belatedly, and then grasps the girl’s shoulders to keep herself completely upright. “What are you doing here?”

“I go to school here, same as you.”

Laura rolls her eyes. “No, I mean—shouldn’t you be with Ell?”

“We’re not conjoined twins, cutie. I don’t _always_ have to be with her.”

“Don’t you?” Laura challenges, a frown pulling at her mouth. “Because you kind of are.”

Carmilla rolls her eyes. “Well, here I am. No Ell in sight. Is it a miracle? An omen? Who’s to say.” She takes Laura’s half-empty cup from her hand, downs it all in one go. “But right now, I’m all yours.”

“This is weird,” Laura decides. “You’re weird.”

“Well, thank you for that lovely observation. You’re on a real roll tonight,” Carmilla deadpans. “Keep it up, Hollis. You’ll hurt a girl’s feelings.”

Laura huffs, shoves her shoulder lightly. “I mean—you’re here, talking to me. Why?”

“I talk to you all the time.” Carmilla considers her for a moment, gaze burning. “Although, usually you’re a lot more uptight. Alcohol is becoming on you, sweetheart.”

“I’m not Ell.”

Carmilla frowns. “I’m aware. And?”

“You called me sweetheart,” Laura elaborates. “I get the short jokes, and the food jokes, but—I’m not Ell. Wrong roommate.”

“It’s just a nickname, _sweetheart_ ,” she says, deliberate. “Don’t overthink it.”

“Overthinking is my motto in life,” Laura blurts. “I should probably have it on a bumper sticker. If I drove, that is. I mean, I can drive, but my Canadian license doesn’t work here, so—”

A hand claps over her mouth. “Stop. Pause. Take a breath.”

Laura glares at her, and, because she’s had a little too much Jungle Juice to care, _licks_ Carmilla’s palm.

“Wow, you are a _child_ ,” Carmilla hisses, pulling her hand back in disgust. She smears it on the leg of her pants. “You know, that’s not the sort of tongue I’m used to getting from pretty girls.”

She stares, eyes wide, sputtering. “I’m—don’t _say_ things like that.”

“What?” Carmilla leans in, their noses almost brushing, until Laura can smell the alcohol on her breath. “That you’re pretty? Why not? I’m not blind, sweetheart.”

Laura can’t help it, her eyes dart to Carmilla’s mouth.

Her stupid, smirking mouth.

“You have a girlfriend,” and because she doesn’t know how to stop herself, “who _really_ hates me, and probably won’t appreciate you telling other girls they’re pretty.”

Carmilla smiles, all teeth. “Well, Ell’s a moron.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say about your girlfriend.”

Laura takes a half-step backwards, as someone shoves the way around the two of them, snapping her back to reality. “That’s not a nice thing to say about your girlfriend.” Blinking slightly to steady herself, she shakes her head. “I should go and find my friends.”

“Tweedle Dee and Dum?” Carmilla leans against the wall, arms crossing, fixing Laura with an unreadable look. “They left, like an hour ago. The scientist one looked a little green around the edges. Literally.”

“I don’t know why anybody thought an Alchemy Club party was a good idea,” Laura says, in a startling moment of clarity. “I think I saw somebody walking around on the dance floor with an actual tail.”

Carmilla shrugs. “It’s not the weirdest thing to happen on campus. And some idiots will do anything just to party.”

“Why are _you_ here?” Laura asks.

“Maybe I’m one of those idiots.” Carmilla tilts her head, running her eyes up and down Laura; from her ripped jeans to her messy hair. “Not that I’m not enjoying this look on you, but this doesn’t really scream your scene. I figured you’d be laid up in bed with an episode of some show by now.”

Laura makes a face. “I get out! I don’t _just_ lay in bed all night.”

“Mm, no?” Carmilla practically purrs. “Because I kind of like the thought of you in bed tonight.”

She’s almost glad her cup is empty, because if she had been drinking, Laura’s sure she would have spat it all over the floor. Instantly, her cheeks darken. “Whoa, ladykiller. Don’t—you can’t say things like that.”

“So you’ve said.” Carmilla retorts, light, unrepentant. She steps away from the wall, slowly, advancing into Laura’s space. “But here’s the thing, cupcake. I do what I want.”

She smells like alcohol, yes, but beneath that Laura can smell her perfume, a temptingly sweet smell.

Laura swallows.

She could do a million things, her brain is screaming at her to: run, push her away, take a few steps back, get _away_ from her.

But she doesn’t.

Her brain isn’t connected to her legs anymore. All she does is stand there, mutely, staring.

Laura, much like Carmilla, isn’t blind. Yes, Carmilla Karnstein is nothing short of infuriating, but _god_ , she’s so pretty. Gorgeous, really. Laura knows this. She’s been dealing with this for months, ever since she stumbled upon Carmilla in her dorm room that first time.

She’d have to be blind, not to notice just how ludicrously attractive she is. Literally otherworldly attractive, like, ‘an angel in another life’ mixed with ‘ethereally pretty vampire who I’d probably let suck the life out of me’.

“We can’t do this,” Laura murmurs, soft, her heart thundering in her ears.

Carmilla just smirks. Her hands settle on Laura’s lower back, tug them flush against each other. “Why are you here?”

Laura blinks, splutters. “Huh?”

“You asked me, it’s only fair I ask you too.” Carmilla leans so close, Laura can feel her breath on her face. “Why. Are. You. Here?”

Unbidden, her eyes close. “I wanted to g-get away from the room for a bit, do something fun.” Oh god, this isn’t happening. Not with Carmilla Karnstein, her very _taken_ roommate’s very _taken_ girlfriend. “I—LaF wanted me to get out of my comfort zone, maybe meet someone, and…y’know.”

“Oh, I do,” Carmilla’s lip curves upwards, her smile knowing, edged with amusement. “So, it begs the question then, _Laura_. How’s your luck tonight? Good or bad?”

“Good?” Laura says, eyes sliding to Carmilla’s lips.

“What a coincidence,” Carmilla replies, leaning in, “I think mine’s about to get a lot better.”

And, just like that, their lips meet.

It’s not a kiss for fairytales, it’s heated, they both taste like stale alcohol, and Laura’s hands dig into Carmilla’s forearms hard enough to bruise. Still, there’s something about it.

The kiss, like the rest of Laura’s night, is electric.

“Want to get out of here?” Carmilla purrs, pulling her closer, between kisses.

“You have a girlfriend…” Laura whispers finally, one last protest.

Carmilla just slips her hand into Laura’s back pocket, pulling her closer. “Fuck her.”

And, just like that, Laura’s resolve is destroyed.

She _does_ hate her roommate.

(God, Laura’s an awful person.)

Laura laces her hands behind Carmilla’s neck, pulls her down, bringing their lips together in a rough, eager kiss. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

“I’m going to hell,” Laura mutters, curling her hand tighter around Carmilla’s. She considers the taller girl, her right-hand dipping under her shirt, fingers dragging up Carmilla’s front. “God, I’m going to hell.”

Carmilla seizes Laura’s head with the hand not pinned to her front door, tugging her closer by the hair. “Do you ever shut up?” she huffs, kissing her hard.

Laura whines, low and unsteady in her throat. Her hand pauses, gripping the curve of Carmilla’s waist tightly for support. “You,” she murmurs, breathlessly pulling back, tugging on Carmilla’s lip with her teeth, “are the worst.”

“Skip the breakdown, sweetheart.” Carmilla releases her hair, instead she grasps at Laura’s hand, pulls it up towards her very braless chest. “Let’s get this show on the road, preferably before I go grey.”

“God, you’re so hot—and I’m going to go to hell for this.”

Regardless of her words, Laura barges on. Cupping the curve of Carmilla’s chest, she gently, teasingly, traces a circle around her nipple.

“Save me the narration,” Carmilla says, voice a little breathy. “Sex now, crisis later.”

“You really know how to romance a girl.”

“Bite me, Hollis.”

Laura noses her jaw upwards, brushing her with kisses. “With pleasure.”

The sound Carmilla lets out when Laura does just that, scraping her teeth against the curve of her neck, is positively indecent.

Laura sucks harder at the skin, leaving a dark mark at the crook of her shoulder. “Keep it down,” she murmurs, pulling back with a ‘pop’, “or everybody will know.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Carmilla hisses, panting. Her fingers curl tight, squeezing warningly against Laura's. “I swear to god, Laura. If you don’t get on with it—”

There’s something fantastic about seeing Carmilla in need, her cheeks red, ruffled. She’s normally so put-together, so effortless. There’s an almost vindictive pleasure in taking her apart like this, slowly, teasingly.

Laura smirks. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Well, excuse me, I’m not feeling very virtuous.” Carmilla pulls back, wrestles her hand free from Laura’s so she can take her shirt off. “I’d rather feel your hand down my pants.”

It takes a moment for Laura to tear her eyes away from the naked chest. She swallows thickly, heat burning at her from every direction. “Oh,” she croaks. “Well, that can be arranged.”

Carmilla lets out a low, husky laugh. “Cat got your tongue?” she asks. “And you were so brave a second ago.”

Her hands settle on Laura’s shoulders, pushing her backwards, towards the double bed pushed up against the wall.

The moment the back of her knees hit the bed, they buckle. Laura lands heavily, sitting on the edge of the bed. Almost before she knows it, there’s a hand tugging insistently at her shirt, pulling it over her head.

“Let’s even the odds, hm?” Carmilla says, pawing at Laura’s back, tugging her bra off her chest.

And Laura’s not a virgin, she’s had sex—a few awkward times with her high school girlfriend, once with Danny during their short-lived romance, and with one or two casual flings since. But it’s been a while. A long while. And she’s not entirely so comfortable with herself, or the situation, that being topless doesn’t register as somewhat embarrassing to her.

“So,” Laura says, after a moment of Carmilla’s dark eyes fixated on her, “this is happening, huh?”

“Oh, are we back to the moral crisis?” Carmilla rolls her eyes. “You’ll give a girl whiplash, sweetheart.”

“Nope, no crisis. Just _observing_.”

Carmilla shakes her head, climbing into Laura’s lap slowly, her arms looping around her neck. “I should have known you’d be a talker,” she laments. “I suppose you’ll want to cuddle after this, too?”

And Laura’s under no illusions about what this is—Carmilla, as the lead weight in her stomach reminds her, is _taken_ —but that only makes her feel worse. So, she just shakes her head. “As if.”

“What, am I not cuddle material?”

And she shouldn’t say it, she shouldn’t—but she’s still mostly drunk, and her filter has never been the strongest. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask your _girlfriend_?”

“Oh,” Carmilla leans even closer, their noses brushing, chests pressed flush, “that’s cute.”

“What?"

“That you actually care." Carmilla leans down, presses their lips together. When she pulls away, panting, she shakes her head. “You hate Ell. She hates you. She’s a raging bitch ninety-nine percent of the time. Fuck her."

"I don't  _hate_ Ell. I just don't get why she hates me, there's no reason. I didn't do anything to her, she just hates me on principle." Laura sighs as Carmilla kisses her way down her neck, marking her in return. "It's so stupid."

"Well," Carmilla pulls back, observing the deep red hickey at Laura's neck with obvious pleasure. "Let's give Ell something to  _really_ hate you for."

Laura laughs, even though she doesn't mean to, even though there's nothing funny about the situation. Ell will probably murder her. If she's been planning it, like Laura suspects, this is probably enough to sign her death warrant. 

"This is not what Perry meant when she said I should give you a chance."

Still, Laura lets Carmilla push her backwards onto the bed. The two of them shuffle up, kicking off shoes and socks. 

Carmilla lets out an amused sound. “Yeah, we’re about to get really acquainted.”

“Oh my god.” Laura muffles a groan into her hand. “This isn’t porn. Don’t say it like that.”

“Well, sorry, I’m not shooting for very PG-13 tonight. I think you’re in the wrong movie.”

“You are gross. You are a gross, cheesy, amateur-porn wannabe.” A laugh cracks through Laura’s disgusted face. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were remotely cool.”

Carmilla sits heavily on her hips, grabbing Laura’s hands and pressing them to the mattress, pinning her in place. “Did you now?” she asks, face inches away. “What else did you think, hm?”

Laura pauses, looking up at her. “When I first saw you, I thought you were probably the hottest, coolest looking person I’d ever met—you looked like you’d walked right out of a badass magazine,” she admits. “Remember, you wore that leather jacket, and you were on Ell’s bed. You told me to—”

“Close your mouth, before you caught flies,” Carmilla recalls, smirking. “To be fair, you _were_ staring at me. I always knew you liked me. Most girls do.”

“You’re so conceited,” Laura huffs, gazing up at her. “Stupid, mean, conceited, hot _jerk_.”

“Ah, yes, ply me with compliments.” She shifts, slotting her knee between Laura’s legs. “I’m listening.”

“I hate you so much.”

“That’s it, tell me more,” Carmilla laughs, but it turns into a low, filthy sound when Laura uses her knee, bumping gently at her center.

It’s Laura’s turn to smirk, now. “Cute.”

“Shut up,” Carmilla leans down, bringing their lips together into a harder, hotter kiss; reigniting the heat between them that the fumbling and the banter had lulled. She pulls back, breathing heavily. “God, the things I want to do to you.”

Laura looks back up at her, eyes burning. “Show, don’t tell.”

“Now you’re talking.”

Releasing her, Carmilla slowly kisses her way down Laura’s torso. She traces the curve of her chest with tongue and teeth and wandering fingers. She catches and pulls on Laura’s nipples, until they’re stiff and shining. She maps every inch of Laura, like she’s committing her to memory.

Laura lets out a soft moan, fingers lacing in Carmilla’s hair, tugging her closer. The action just makes Carmilla chuckle quietly, releasing her nipple. “Relax,” she says, smiling wickedly, “patience is a virtue, remember.”

“I _hate_ you.”

Carmilla laughs against her skin. “Love you too, creampuff.”

Fortunately for Laura, Carmilla doesn’t waste too much more time. She pulls slowly back, kissing her way down Laura’s stomach, running her tongue around her belly button, nipping at it. Her stomach contracts, fingers curling tighter in Carmilla’s hair.

“Oh god,” Laura groans. “ _Carmilla_.”

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” Carmilla crows, pleased. Her fingers trail down, working at the button of Laura’s jeans, undoing them. “Now, work with me here, and we can get to the main event—where I _really_ make you scream.”

Laura lets out a low whine, raising her hips so Carmilla can peel the tight jeans from her legs. It’s a struggle, and Carmilla has to readjust her position a half-dozen times. She gets them off eventually, though, then spends some time struggling to get her own off, tossing them both to the floor.

“There, evened the score,” Carmilla purrs, draping herself back between Laura’s legs, lower now. She presses her palms to Laura’s thighs, kissing between her hipbones.

She glances up at Laura, who’s covering her face with her arm. Carmilla pries the arm away from her face, smirking at the line of teeth-marks at her elbow. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

“You’re going to kill me,” Laura whimpers, as Carmilla slowly pulls her underwear down, tossing it away. “Oh god, I’m going to die.”

Carmilla flashes her a heated look, mouth quirking. “How’s a little Heaven before Hell?”

“ _Stop_ ,” Laura pants, pupils blown, as Carmilla’s hands sweep slowly inward, thumbs tracing the innermost part of her thigh, “with the porn lines. God, I’ve never been so turned on and _disgusted_ in my life.”

“It’s a confusing time for both of us,” Carmilla mentions, kissing her way up Laura’s spread thigh. “I never imagined this was how I’d spend my Saturday night. Can’t say I’m complaining, though.”

“Please, just _get to it_.”

“I like it when a girl begs.” The look Carmilla gives her is nothing short of _sultry,_ as she finally, blessedly, spreads Laura open with her thumbs. She wastes no time, pressing her lips to Laura’s clit, kissing it softly.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Laura moans, hips jumping.

Carmilla presses her hips down, chuckling against her. But she doesn’t let up, trailing her lips up and down the length of her, before focusing back in on her clit. Her tongue darts out, soft, testing.

Laura’s hands find the blankets, curling into tight fists. “Holy Hufflepuff.”

“Ugh, turnoff,” Carmilla says, pulling her face up, giving Laura a raised eyebrow. "Seriously."

“Shut _up_ ,” Laura hisses.

Carmilla’s thumb finds Laura’s clit, rubbing in circles, and she fixes her with a _look_. “Now that’s just rude. You're pretty ungrateful, you know.”

“I’ll show you rude,” Laura pants out, eyes squeezing shut.

“Well, that’s the plan.” She dips her head back down, tongue taking over for fingers. Her hand slides down, slowly trailing her entrance, teasing.

Laura, having none of it, jumps her hips against Carmilla’s hands. She begs wordlessly, with all her straining muscles and rising moans, for Carmilla to give her more.

But Carmilla doesn’t move, actually slows down, tongue lightly tracing her clit.

Swallowing back a groan, Laura opens her eyes. Her gaze connects with Carmilla’s, sees the mischief and the silent request hidden in her eyes. “Please,” she moans, and it comes out wanton, wrecked, _“fuck me_.”

Nothing if not willing, Carmilla smiles against her, speeding her motions up. Her fingers slip slowly inside, testing the waters. When there’s no resistance, nothing but wetness and Laura’s moans egging her on. So, she moves. Slowly, she increases the speed, the force, working her fingers harder and faster inside of Laura.

“Oh, god, yes,” Laura moans, senseless words and noises spilling unbidden from her lips. Dimly, she registers the sound of Carmilla’s headboard hitting the wall, and that her neighbors are _definitely_ under no illusions now. But it doesn’t matter. Not in the face of what’s building up. “ _Carmilla_.”

She smirks against Laura. “Come on, Laura. Come for me.”

And it doesn’t take much more than that, wound up and ready as she is. Carmilla crooks her fingers, finding that special spot inside of her, and Laura would later _swear_ she saw stars.

“Carm—” Laura’s voice breaks off, tensing as she comes, a ragged, choked moan escaping her. “Oh god.”

Coaxing her through it, Carmilla slows her fingers but doesn’t stop, pulling back from Laura’s clit to watch her come. Eventually, when Laura starts to shy away, Carmilla pulls her fingers free. Dropping onto the mattress beside her, she sucks her fingers into her mouth. “Well, that was fun.” She leans forward, catches her in a kiss. “Your turn.”

“Give me a minute,” Laura pants against her lips, chest heaving, “then I’ll rock your world.”

Carmilla cackles. “Who’s using the porn lines now.”

Laura lets out a groan, shoving her over onto her back and climbing on top of her. “You’re the _worst_.”

“That’s not what you were saying a minute ago,” Carmilla retorts. “Or was ‘ _oh my god, yes, don’t stop’_ misconstrued.”

Even when Laura tries to smother her with the pillow, Carmilla’s laughter doesn’t ease.

Before long, Laura’s laughing too.

It’s just the two of them, naked in bed, cackling like tipsy idiots.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, as the dust settles and more and more students begin to stream home from the party and into their dorms, they finally collapse into bed, satiated. 

Carmilla, shaking and sweaty still, falls back to the mattress with an exaggerated sigh. "Well, that was fun."

"Yeah," Laura watches her stretch, admires the arch of her back, the way it highlights her curves.

"I gotta say, I didn't expect that," Carmilla confesses. "Who knew that, beneath the button-ups and the cookies,  _that_ was laying inside. Color me impressed, creampuff—and _very_ satisfied."

Laura shakes her head. "Thanks for the review."

"Anytime."

At those words, the weight of what transpired rushes back in. "Yeah," Laura glances away, pulls herself slowly away from Carmilla's side, towards the foot of the bed. "I had fun."

"Oh, you don't have to reassure me. I  _know_ you did."

Shaking off the things welling inside of her, the sudden urge to scream, Laura rolls herself out of bed. She hunts around on the floor, gathering up all of her hastily-discarded clothes and throwing them on. It's a lot harder to wiggle into her pants than it was to get out of them, and her underwear is,  _ahem_ , wet, so she leaves them. 

Laura gives Carmilla, lounging in bed with her arm thrown over her eyes, a lingering glance.

She never imagined she'd sleep with Carmilla Karnstein of all people. Certainly not a girl who was  _already taken_. 

It goes against everything she's always said, sworn, known about her own character. Laura's never wanted to be the third party, the homewrecker, in whatever situation. And somehow she's walked headlong into it, alcohol-influence or no. Now that they're done, and she's standing in an unfamiliar room, sex in the air, a naked girl in the bed, that's all she can think. Guilt. She did this. She's guilty.

God, she should never have gone to that party.

More so, she should  _never_ have gone home with Carmilla.

Smothering the pit of guilt, frustration and a million other things welling inside of her, she pulls her phone out of her pocket.

_To: Danny [2:12 AM]  
That offer still open?_

After barely a few moments, a ping answers her.

_From: Danny [2:13 AM]  
Always._

_To: Danny [2:13 AM]  
I’ll be there in 15_

“Leaving already?”

Laura sits down on the edge of Carmilla’s bed, pulling her shoes on. “Well, something tells me this isn’t exactly a ‘stick around for cuddles and breakfast’ sort of situation.”

There’s a shifting sound, and when she looks up, Carmilla is watching her. The sheet is pooling around her waist, but she makes no motion to cover herself up. Not that there’s much of point, considering.

“It is what it is.” Carmilla shrugs.

Laura nods, chest tight. “I’m going to a friend’s place. I—” she breaks off, voice choked, shaking her head. “I don’t think I can look Ell in the eye anytime soon.”

“I won’t say anything.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. But thanks.” Laura stands, pocketing her phone. “I’ll…see you later, I guess.”

Carmilla watches her, something unreadable in her eyes. “Yeah, I guess you will.”

Laura averts her eyes, rakes a hand through her hair to try and wrangle it into something a little more orderly, a little less sex-hair. “Right, well,” she opens the door, facing the dark hallway, thankful that Carmilla lives in a different building to her and Ell. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Laura leaves, door clicking softly behind her.

Each step feels heavier and heavier, guilt pressing in around her.

God, _what did she do_.

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to hell, but boy howdy, I'm taking you all there with me. This will probably be a short, 2-3 chapter fic. Not sure of the update schedule yet. 
> 
> Let me know if this has any grammar/spelling errors. It was all written in one long stint, no beta, so there's bound to be mistakes.
> 
> (Also, this is my first time writing smut in 4-5 years now, probably? It's been a long time, that's for sure. It probably shows. It took me the longest, too. It's half-sexy-half-silly because this is how I operate as a person, fight me.)


End file.
